


The New Guy

by BuckinghamAlice



Category: DC Extended Universe
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Written Pre-Justice League (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 22:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: Clark tries to fit in with the Justice League that formed while he was dead and struggles to figure out his relationship with Batman.





	1. The New Guy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from tumblr of something I wrote a couple of years ago, cross posting just in case

“You know, you’re slightly unbelievable.”  That was the first thing Bruce said to Clark on the first day Clark was with the Justice League as an official member.

Clark looked up at Bruce and raised an eyebrow.  He had no idea what he had supposedly done that was so unbelievable now… and he wasn’t even sure if that was meant as a criticism or a compliment.  He liked Bruce well enough now, he had to admit, but he didn’t always understand him.  What  _was_  Bruce to him anyways?  A colleague?  A friend?  An occasional annoyance with the very best of intentions?  It was still too soon to say.

“What have I done, B?” Clark asked.

Bruce’s eyes widened.  Clark had noticed before, when they were fighting, that he could see the surprisingly expressive things Bruce’s eyes did without using x-ray vision to peek under the cowl.

“You and that outfit,” Bruce mumbled.  “You look moody.  And don’t call me ‘B.’ It isn’t intimidating.”

Clark shrugged. “Yeah, and neither are you.  And you’re one to talk about looking moody.”  

“Smart ass,” Bruce replied.  Clark had a feeling he wasn’t as annoyed as he wanted to sound, but of course he couldn’t prove it.

But instead of trying to change the subject or anything like that, Clark simply shrugged and walked away then, not wanting to talk about his new outfit.  Not yet.  When he had come back, putting on the familiar blue and red didn’t feel quite right.  He wasn’t ready to be  _that_  Superman… the one that apparently couldn’t be trusted until he was dead.  Since Clark was different now, he  _looked_  different too. The suit was black, and he let his beard grow a little.  And he wasn’t wearing a cape now.  But the crest of the house of El was still proudly emblazoned on his chest.  The new look was never about denying who he was, but more about asserting who he wasn’t.

But he couldn’t really explain any of that.  He didn’t even quite understand it himself, just knew he needed the change for now.

He kept walking away from Bruce, mostly exploring the weird, spacey satellite that served as the Justice League’s headquarters.  He’d met all the others, and he had a feeling like they all knew more about him than he possibly could about them.  But he hoped to be friends with them, and with Bruce… if they all wanted it.

While he was ruminating on that, Diana rounded a corner and flashed a warm smile at him.  “Kal!” she exclaimed.  She rushed to him and hugged him, and her arms were almost crushing.  That was a new sensation.  

“Hi, Diana,” Clark replied brightly.

Diana’s grin grew wider.  “I did not know you would be here today.  Bruce said he had been working on you… but I didn’t think you were ready.”

Diana’s softly accented words echoed Clark’s own thoughts.  “Yeah,” he simply replied.  “Well, I figured I needed to get back to work.”

“Good for you,” Diana replied.  “It isn’t because Bruce pressured you though, I hope?”

Clark shook his head.  “Oh no.  He didn’t.  Not too much.”

Diana nodded. “Well, if he does, I can handle him for you.  And you take it easy… well, as easy as this work will allow.”  She smiled again, and put her hand on his shoulder.  She almost felt like a big sister.   _That_  was nice.  

“Thanks,” Clark replied warmly.  He could definitely count her as a friend.

He went on with his exploration of the Watchtower a while longer, and eventually came to a little display that looked suspiciously like a memorial for him. He was flattered, sure… but he would have expected they’d have gotten rid of it, now that he was back.  There was a large painted portrait of him standing confident and heroic with his hands on his hips, and it was surrounded by a couple of framed newspaper headlines about the fight with Doomsday and its aftermath.

Clark stood in front of the portrait and looked at it for a long time.  The Superman in that picture had a lot of conviction… and Clark had had that once too.  The drive and the desire to be there for anyone who needed him would never go away, but now… the fear that whatever he did wouldn’t be enough, couldn’t be enough, was hard to shake.  He knew he’d always give all he could… even it it meant dying again, but would it ever be enough?

“You inspired them,” came a voice.  

Clark had been thinking so hard he wasn’t paying attention to the fact that Bruce was now standing beside him.  He looked up at him and hesitated. What could he really say?

“None of this would have happened, it couldn’t have been possible, without you,” Bruce went on.  He was speaking quietly, and his voice was even. Reassuring.

Clark wanted to point out that it had in fact all come together without him, while he was gone… but it would sound like he was feeling sorry for himself. He had been reluctant to join in the first place and thought they could probably get along just fine without him, and been a lot safer too… but he didn’t say that either.  Instead, he simply said, “I’m glad.”

Bruce looked away from him, and back at the portrait.  “One of the Green Lanterns is an artist… I commissioned him to paint it, and he tried to get me not to pay him.   _That’s_  how much what you did meant.  I hope you know.”

“It was worth it then,” Clark replied thoughtfully.

Bruce looked at Clark for a moment before shaking his head.  “You’ve got a funny way of looking at things.”

Clark simply shrugged.  “I kind of have to.”

Bruce nodded briefly.  Clark wondered if he was going to say something more, and what he was thinking.  But probably what he had already said was too much and he felt he had exposed too much, so he remained silent and didn’t look at Clark.  After another moment he turned away.  

“League meeting in fifteen minutes,” Bruce called over his shoulder.  “Don’t be late.”

&&&

When Clark walked into the meeting, the others applauded, and Bruce grumpily cleared his throat to quiet them.

“Today should be a quiet one,” Bruce began.  “Barring any unforeseen calamity…”

“Which you’ve of course prepared for,” the Flash interjected, grinning.  Clark smiled.  He liked him already.

Bruce glanced at him.  “Yes.  I have.  That’s the point.”

Cyborg snickered, and he and Flash exchanged a glance.  Clark suspected they’d have high fived if they thought they wouldn’t get a bat-glare of death.

“We’ll continue to work in pairs,” Bruce went on, mostly ignoring the two of them. “Aquaman and Cyborg.  Flash and Green Lantern.  Wonder Woman and myself.”

Clark frowned. “What about me?”  Bruce had been rather insistent that Clark join the Justice League, and now here he was… and they weren’t even going to include him.

“You’re reserves,” Bruce replied.  “It’s too soon for you to jump in.  You’ve got some training to do.”

Clark huffed.  “I’ve been training since I’ve been back.  My body is fine…”

“But you don’t yet know how we operate,” Bruce interrupted him dismissively.

“It isn’t that hard to follow,” Clark insisted.  “I don’t need to have a partner to work with, but I won’t sit here while you all go out there and do the work without me.  You wanted me here, so I’m here.”

Diana sighed.  “Kal, he’s just concerned.  Nothing wrong with starting off slowly.  You remember what I said before?”

Clark shook his head.  They were treating him like he was made of glass.  And yes, he was still dealing with things since he’d been back… but ultimately he’d joined the League because he thought it would be good for him – that it would help him get back to where he wanted to be as a hero, and that being around like minded people with the same goal would make him a stronger hero and a stronger man.  But if he was just there as a mascot, what honestly was the point of it?

Without a word, he stood up and stormed out of the room.

&&&

Clark felt a little bit like a teenager as he sat in his quarters (which were beige and devoid of personality… he’d have to bring some things in to cheer the place up – if he ended up sticking around).  He was sulking and he knew it, but he was upset and he didn’t understand why things were playing out the way they were.

But before he could get into a proper pout, there was a banging at his door.  He could take an educated guess who was outside his quarters without even looking, so he ignored it.  Let them go out and start work now.

But he hadn’t locked the door, and the knocking grew more persistent for a moment and then stopped.  And then the door opened.

“I didn’t answer for a reason,” Clark said.

“Don’t do that,” Bruce ordered.  “Don’t question me in front of the team.”

Clark furrowed his brows.  “You know that you’re sort of the leader and not the boss, right?  One person calling all the shots is a recipe for disaster. 'Questioning’ you and disagreeing with you is important… it’s going to come up, especially with me here.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t question me so I can be in charge,” Bruce maintained. “It makes you look petty and makes me look self-important.”

Clark rolled his eyes and sighed.  “That makes no sense.”

Bruce crossed his arms.  “You’re too emotional for this.”

“What is this really about?” Clark demanded.  “You made it sound so imperative that I join the League… now I’m here and you don’t want me to do anything.  Tell me why.  I deserve to know.”

“I just told you,” Bruce countered.

He was so damned stubborn.  Clark couldn’t believe it.  “All you said was that you didn’t want to be questioned.  But I told you I was going to do it anyways, so tell me why I’m sitting on the sidelines.”

“You’re infuriating,” Bruce replied.  “Honestly.”

Clark nodded.  “So are you.  Still doesn’t answer my question.”

Bruce hesitated.  He closed the door, which he’d hastily left open, and stepped closer to Clark, though there was still a good distance between them.  He took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself.  “You died,” he finally said, exasperated.  He acted as if that simple statement explained everything.

Clark nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”

“So… you don’t need to do anything stupid right now,” Bruce explained.  “You cannot be reckless… not now.  I… a lot of people need you.”

Clark looked up at him.  “Wait.  Hold on… you're…  _concerned_  about me?”

“Obviously!” Bruce replied flippantly.  “I said in the beginning that you needed to prepare more… and I said that because it’s the smart thing to do.”

“You practically made it sound like you didn’t trust me,” Clark replied.  “And like you thought I couldn’t handle myself.”

Bruce sighed.  “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”

Clark nodded. “Thank you.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you need to continue training,” Bruce went on. “And briefing.  Getting up to date on procedure and contingency plans.”

Clark stood up then. Bruce seemed to think that he could keep him away from doing his job… that was probably why he wanted him there in the first place, to keep an eye on him.  He reached behind himself and started to unzip his uniform.

Bruce looked startled.  “What the hell are you doing?”

Clark sighed. “Relax.  I just have to show you something.”

He peeled the top of his uniform off and revealed his bare chest.  He came a single stop closer to Bruce and pointed at the scar that Doomsday had given him. “Look at this,” he said softly.

Bruce stared at the scar for a moment and reached toward him tentatively, but didn’t touch.  “I didn’t even know your skin could scar…”

“Neither did I,” Clark replied with a slight laugh.  “But Bruce… I died, yet somehow I survived that.  I’m not fragile.  It would take some pretty extraordinary circumstances for something like that to happen again.”

“It could,” Bruce replied.  “And you might not be lucky enough to come back next time.”

Clark sighed.  “But if something extraordinary like that happens, I don’t want you to get hurt trying to face it alone!”  Then, hastily he added, “All of you, I mean.  The League.”

Bruce sighed now. “You don’t have to put yourself at risk for people to respect you.”

“Experience tells me otherwise,” Clark replied, allowing a single rueful laugh.

Bruce rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “I still think you’re unbelievable and infuriating.  And reckless.”

“Probably how I ended up here with you then… you know like minded people always find one another,” Clark replied.

Bruce shook his head.  “Dork.”

Clark smiled. “Okay.  Let’s make a compromise.  You trust me, don’t be an ass about me going into the field, because I  _am_  going to… and I’ll train twice as much as I have been.  You can even work with me, if you like.”

Bruce sighed.  “I  _don’t_  like it.”

“But you’ll do it,” Clark replied.

Bruce didn’t say anything to that, but he did stretch his hand out.  He looked a tad apprehensive to Clark, so Clark tried to hide his own bit of nerves as he took Bruce’s hand and shook it.  Maybe Bruce had seen that Clark needed this… maybe he’d been sincere when he said that they all needed Clark.  It didn’t matter.  They were going to make it work.

“Clark?” Bruce asked.

“Hm?” he responded.

Bruce sighed. “That’s all fine… but put your shirt back on.”

Clark looked down at his bare chest and smiled and he pulled his uniform back on.  He laughed, and he could tell Bruce was trying not to laugh too.  

Now he felt pretty sure… Bruce was his friend.  It was probably going to continue to be rocky for a while… but it was going to work.


	2. Something Like Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly material I wrote for the story in the first chapter, "The New Guy," before I ended up going in a different direction with it. I wanted to use it so it became this mildly angsty drabble. Since I'm reposting old works from tumblr and this one is kind of dependent on the other story, I decided to post them as chapters of the same story rather than separate stories. They do technically stand alone, however.

Ever since Clark had been back, he could never seem to get enough sunlight.  He wished there was some way he could absorb more sunlight, stockpile it in his blood and his cells and his bones.  He suspected that was how his body worked… though he couldn’t exactly know with any degree of certainty.  Ma had suggested to him that the reason he felt this way was because even though he was alive and doing well, his body needed more solar energy now to finish healing completely.

Physically he felt more or less the same as he ever had, though.  But his body probably wasn’t what most needed to heal, he had to admit.

Maybe he wanted, almost craved, the sunlight because it gave him a reason to stay outside… and not have to fight off the claustrophobia that gripped him when he was in too tight or dark a space now.

He wanted everything to go back to how it was before, to how  _he_  was before, but it just wasn’t realistic to expect that it would.  Life wasn’t like a rubber band… things wouldn’t just snap back into place without breaking.

He had a little pale scar on his face and a bigger, darker one on his chest to prove it.

But no matter what had happened, Clark wanted to get back to helping people and saving people, because it felt right, and it felt normal.  It was a part of him now.  He had been doing little things here and there… starting small and slow, staying as far away from the spotlight as possible while he did so.

He wasn’t quite ready to save the world again yet.

This is what he felt Bruce didn’t quite understand.  He wanted Clark to join the Justice League, said he was an important symbol… and that he had inspired and galvanized them. And Clark appreciated that they saw him that way, but it was a lot of pressure.

He couldn’t be upset though… he knew Bruce meant well.

Bruce was a different man than the one Clark initially met, one Clark could see himself becoming friends with, if Bruce wanted it.  After what they had been through together, and with Diana, of course, Clark certainly wanted it.

Maybe being friends with them – people who understood what he’d gone through and had the same goals as he did – would help him feel strong enough and ready to go back to how things had been.  Maybe joining the Justice League was what he needed to make that happen.  If that was something that would help him heal… he should do it.

Bruce had said from the beginning that it would be good for him, but it took him a while to work out how and why.

It was funny.  He and Bruce had clashed so spectacularly at first, but now he more or less trusted him.  He couldn’t quite explain why, but he felt it in his bones.  Bruce presented himself as all darkness… but maybe he was part sunlight, too.


End file.
